


An Enlightening Experience

by Valmouth



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at Humor, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Light! Obi-Wan, Minor Character Death, Mortis (Star Wars), Poor Obi-Wan, The Force
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-30 02:39:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8515357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valmouth/pseuds/Valmouth
Summary: The Daughter is dimming, flickering like a short-circuiting light fixture, and he’s suddenly hovering three feet off the ground and glowing like a tiny moon.
“You… have been Chosen,” the Father says, and he sounds about as upset on the matter as Obi-Wan knows he will be, when he finally understands what that means.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So obviously this is not how the episode goes, or how the series goes, or even how the Force really works, but the mild crack of envisioning Obi-Wan dealing with an Unexpected Destiny was too much to pass up.

He doesn’t exactly intend things to happen this way.

It just so happens that he’s bleeding from a small cut to the finger. He doesn’t even feel it through all the rest of the aches and pains that throb through him. Ahsoka has put up a good fight, the crash-landing and lack of sleep is taking its toll, and his serene objectivity has taken a battering he hasn’t yet recovered from.

So he isn’t thinking when he takes off his glove before laying his hand on the Daughter’s dying form.

And because the Force has a sense of humour, apparently a drop of her blood decides to interact with his.

He blanks out for a moment.

According to Anakin – much, much later – it was a truly spectacular light show.

At the time, he’s too busy trying to remain calm in the face of how… shiny, he’s become.

The Daughter is dimming, flickering like a short-circuiting light fixture, and he’s suddenly hovering three feet off the ground and glowing like a tiny moon.

“Master!” Anakin says.

Which is not helpful.

“You can put me down now,” Obi-Wan says.

And Anakin looks reflexively at his hands before looking back up.

“No one’s holding you up,” Anakin says.

“You… have been Chosen,” the Father says, and he sounds about as upset on the matter as Obi-Wan knows he will be, when he finally understands what that means.

It turns out that what it means is that the blood of the Daughter has mingled with his blood, decided he is a useful and worthy carrier, and has promptly imbued him with a power beyond his wildest imaginings.

It seems fitting.

Anakin is already the Chosen One and Ahsoka learns that she will forever be at war within herself between the Dark and the Light; once Anakin is guided on how to channel the last of the Daughter’s power to save her from what the Son has done to her.

The three of them sit in silence in the hold of their broken ship and meditate on the changes they have undergone.

At least, Ahsoka and Anakin sit.

Obi-Wan is still trying to master the feel of gravity while the Light in his veins is making him very… buoyant.

He finds himself hovering a lot unless he thinks about it.

“At least you’ll always have enough light to read by,” Ahsoka offers optimistically.

“I’ll also be an unmissable target on a stealth mission,” Obi-Wan returns dourly.

Which brings up another point.

“Can you even leave Mortis?” Ahsoka asks.

Obi-Wan looks at Anakin, who looks back at him with equal bemusement, and they don’t need words to realise that this is a conversation they must have with the Father.

Who does them the courtesy of not answering them in riddles and prophecies.

“No,” he says.

There is a longer reply that follows but the word bounces around Obi-Wan’s head and he finds that he isn’t surprised by it, really. And a part of him feels how right it is, how necessary. How important.

If he is to house the Light of the Force, then he must remain here. He must keep the Balance.

The Son is still alive, still in the eternal act of Falling, and he has to keep himself safe for the good of the galaxy.

“What must I do?” he asks, and tries to focus on keeping his feet on the ground.

In the circumstances, changing the seasons to match the time of day is still a little beyond him. Though he does accidentally create a little tiny snow flurry when Anakin tries to lighten the mood with an intensely unfunny joke.

“We can’t all stay,” he says, when two nights have passed and he has judged that Anakin’s fears for his safety have calmed somewhat.

“I’m not leaving you alone here, Master,” Anakin says stubbornly.

Which is roughly how Obi-Wan knows that his former Padawan is already aware of that fact and has come to terms with it.

He smiles a little and thinks of how much he’ll miss him.

The Son shows up not two minutes after Anakin’s ship leaves.

And Obi-Wan turns to direct a level stare at the ominous presence behind him.

The Rage and Rejection infecting the air is now a metallic taste in his mouth, a feeling of smoke filling his lungs. He can feel it start to stifle his breathing, little panic sensors going off in his still-human brain.

The Disgust is new, though; he’s never felt Disgust levelled at himself.

It’s… oddly upsetting.

As a Jedi he has learned to give up his pride and his self-worth, to put his faith in being useful and effective rather than liked by everyone.

And the Force has not always showered him with people willing to bolster his ego. As an Initiate of thirteen, unclaimed by a Master and rejected by several Last Chance Jedi Knights, facing a future with the Agri-Corp on the less-than-scintillating world of Bandomeer, he had had to learn self-reliance. He had had to learn self-determination.

And in many ways, he has learned the lesson too well.

He knows that the Jedi Council appreciates his ability to be unshakeable and implacable in extreme situations, just as he knows that people have wondered if he still has a heart left to feel with.

He has always taken comfort in the fact that he knows he has a heart. Has felt it squeeze tight in his chest when Satine smiles at him. Come to that, he’d felt it squeeze tight in fear when he dropped her as they ran for their lives. And felt it squeeze tight in pain when he’d made his decision to leave her and return to Coruscant with Qui-Gon.

He finds himself at peace with the memories now.

He finds himself at peace with a lot of things.

“You are not worthy to take her place,” the Son spits.

“I would never have had to if you hadn’t killed her,” he points out reasonably.

It’s not his finest moment of diplomacy but he observes the moment dispassionately, watching the rage and hurt chase itself across the Son’s face and he feels… pity. Compassion.

“She would not want you to feel such pain at her death,” he says gently, “But to remember her as she was in life.”

“That will be hard,” the Son snarls, “If I have to see you in her guise!”

“I understand,” he says, and then, because he is still human enough, “Believe me, I understand,” with a more heartfelt tone of commiseration.

He does understand.

There is little enough to do on Mortis besides develop his mastery over his new gift.

He spends long hours with the Father in conversation and meditation, and feels like an Initiate all over again, but there are still longer hours when he is alone, walking the forests and mountain passes or drifting through his innermost thoughts in his cave.

Technically, he has his own Temple.

It is a place of Light and Beauty, severe in its harmony and austere in its order. He feels dwarfed in it. 

So he returns to the cave he shared with Ahsoka on the night his life changed.

“You still do not get enough sleep, Obi-Wan,” he hears, after ten nights on his own.

He slits his eyes open to check that his ears are not hearing things.

“Meditation is not an acceptable substitute,” Qui-Gon tells him.

He stands up. “Master,” he says, “I hoped you would return.”

“I cannot return,” Qui-Gon says sensibly, “I never left. I am still only here because you are here.”

“About that, do I take it that your spirit follows me around?” Obi-Wan asks, crossing his arms loosely enough to gesture with one hand, “Because I am past the age when you should be watching over my shoulder like a recalcitrant Padawan.”

“Consider that I am concerned for the state of the universe,” Qui-Gon says dryly.

Obi-Wan has to concede that much of his past few years have warranted interest in that sense.

His old Master looks much the same as he always did.

Then Obi-Wan looks closer and realises that he is wrong; Qui-Gon looks younger. His hair has no grey, his face has fewer lines. The crow’s feet that would crinkle beside his eyes are not so prominent. The veins in his hands are smoothed out.

“How are you doing this, Master?”

“This place has a powerful connection to the Force, Obi-Wan. You should know this more than anyone.”

“I know I can feel its energy flowing through my body, yes.”

“Not only flowing. Contained. You are the Light, now, my Padawan.”

“No,” Obi-Wan says definitely, “I am only a man. I bear a burden gladly and call it a gift, but I am not the Light.”

Qui-Gon smiles.

And Obi-Wan wonders why.

And then Qui-Gon leaves and Obi-Wan is alone. Again.

And he sighs as he sits down.

But this time he tries harder to get some sleep.

The Father doesn’t like to look at him when they speak. He stares at the door to his Temple as though his Daughter will one day walk through it as beautiful as she ever was, shining with the purity she once embodied.

Obi-Wan, who has mostly mastered gravity except on those rare occasions when he accidentally steps off the mountain pass path and forgets to fall, can’t find it in himself to blame him. He thinks he too would find it difficult to come to terms with someone who had stolen the life force of anyone he cared for.

He radiates what healing he can; imbues it into the room while he meditates with the old man.

The power comes far too easily.

It tastes of honey and feels like cool water. It smells like warm rain on earth.

It energises him as much as it seems to relieve some of the Father’s pain.

He considers offering his assistance to the Son as well but shelves the thought for now.

“He is not ready,” he tells the empty air of his cave, “His pain is still too raw. It’s best not to antagonise him by seeking him out. When he is ready, he will come to me. As I think he would have done to Her.”

He starts trying to master the changing seasons.

Anakin comes back.

“I’ve brought visitors,” he says sheepishly.

Yoda and Mace are admirably straight-faced at the sight of him, considering he still glows like a miniature moon.

“Welcome, Master Yoda, Master Windu,” he says, and, “You should leave. Now.”

“But we’ve just arrived,” Anakin protests.

Obi-Wan ignores him for the moment.

“With all due respect, you are both members of the Jedi Council because of your wisdom and your power in the Force,” he says, “We cannot risk losing any of you to the Dark Side.”

“He’ll have to get through the Light Side and the Chosen One first, Master,” Anakin says cheerfully, “I think we’ll be fine.”

They are most assuredly not fine.

Yoda takes a trip to the Dark Side after the Son bites him disguised as a snake.

If Ahsoka was difficult enough to fight when fuelled by hate and anger, then Yoda is a nightmare.

It takes Mace and Anakin all they have to keep up with him while Obi-Wan tries to marshal his power to get through the fog of Darkness.

He does figure out how to turn into a solar gryphon during the incident, however, and swats at Yoda’s demonic little springy form with his large paws before he figures out how to turn back.

Once he calms the burn of emotion in Yoda’s spirit, they have a much easier time of it. Yoda himself slowly and methodically purges his hatred and his fury, and when he’s done with that he works on his guilt and his shame and his fear.

Obi-Wan meditates beside him, radiating warmth and care and acceptance, respect and trust, and he feels a little foolish when he opens his eyes and finds Anakin and Mace watching him with twin expressions of wary bemusement on their faces. But he feels the emotion as though he watches it from outside himself, and it slips away on the dawn breeze even as the trees put out new leaves.

“Concerned we were for your well-being,” Yoda says, prodding one gnarly finger in his general direction, “But though great power I see in you, embrace it easily you have.”

Mace puts it a little more palatably – “You’ve always found a way to adapt to unexpected deviations in your path. I’m glad to see you haven’t changed.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan says.

Anakin stares at him speculatively and then says, “You glow brighter when you’re happy, Master.”

“There is much joy in the Force, my former Padawan,” he says, with lofty sarcasm.

Anakin grins. “I’ll come back soon,” he promises.

It’s only when Anakin actually has one foot on the ramp that Obi-Wan clears his throat loudly.

Anakin knows this sign and pauses.

“How is the war going?” Obi-Wan asks softly.

Anxiously.

Anakin doesn’t answer right away but that’s because Anakin does him the courtesy of not lying.

“Well,” he says, “We’re spread thin and we’ve lost some good people, but we’re recovering ground. It’s only a matter of time.”

Obi-Wan feels himself dim slightly.

“You know,” Anakin says lightly, and grins, “I’m not surprised at all you ended up being an embodiment of Light, Master.”

And then he leaves.

And Obi-Wan doesn’t get to respond to such an outrageous statement in the way it deserves.

He watches the ship take off, and keeps watching until it’s safely out of the atmosphere – mostly because things tend to go wrong when Anakin is behind the controls and no one’s trying to shoot him down – and then he goes to practice being a solar gryphon in the meadows.

It’s an enlightening experience.


End file.
